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grumpy thumb Feb 2016
Thought is a boat
on the oceans of mind.
Waves, the emotions,
flow and ebb of the tide.
Curiosity steers the rudder,
Imagination the sails
billow by winds sigh.
Stars are interlect
for the sextant
there to guide
The elements are senses
influenced by outside.

My boat sails forever
upon this deep blue
drawn by the current
in servitude to you.
grumpy thumb Feb 2016
Need to shake myself
before
I lose my grip.

Been a dour hound
time I think
to take a trip.

These layers of dust
I can shift
once I find my feet.

Got some surface rust,
but beneath
still thumps a steely beat.
grumpy thumb Feb 2016
Welts on my hands
knuckles cut raw
back is aching
can't work no more.
Been thinking of this
losing a fight with that.
Wish I had a million
or a cowboy hat.
Cast my nets
caught nothing to eat.
I'd place my bets,
but the odds are too steep.

But when I see you
all pain disappears
can't imagine anyone else
beside me in my older years.
You're a priceless love
my buckaroo.
I never feel hugry
when I can feast on you.
I've nothing to risk
since I won your hand.
But when you're not near
I'm a lost useless man,
so I am.
grumpy thumb Feb 2016
Only takes a small axe
to chop down a tree.
Which one are you
is the other me?
Could be harder to untangle
roots deep weave
from what we have
to who we could be.
Shall we close the book now
go our separate ways
and wonder how the story
could've played?
Or do we carry on growing
creating page after page
trying to forget the trees  
from which they were made?
grumpy thumb Feb 2016
Your heart's a holster,  
your love the gun.
If I'm a wanted man
I'll not run.
If you're gonna shoot,  
best, shoot me down
by high noon
or the light of the moon,
or with a smile
..
Now *** ye filthy varmints, got a two o clock mosey.
grumpy thumb Jan 2016
Between steps
her silence paces
ripples of a memory
keep me company.
And I swear at times
I can feel her hand clenching mine
snug deep in an overcoat pocket;
her breath sighing
into my ear
on the verge of uttering,
but words no longer live there
and
how our bodies pressed so close
our heartbeats were
undistinguishable
and everything rhymed.
grumpy thumb Jan 2016
He made beeswax
from honeycomb caps
scraped,
distilled,
filtered
through a fine muslin sack.
Seeped liquid gathered
dark honey stays there
pure wax floats and cools in a layer
on top.
Removed with care
for the melting ***.

Cotton wick
best braided flat
cut to length the strip
for the hot vat.
Dip
by timely
dip
dressed
a veil,
a shroud,
a cloak.
The chandler's
pale golden coat.
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